<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Arrangement by sewn</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24079963">Arrangement</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sewn/pseuds/sewn'>sewn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Gen Prompt Bingo 18 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Shannara Chronicles (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Loss of Parent(s), Mareth POV, No Romance, Queen Mareth, Unhappy Ending, transactional sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:08:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,024</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24079963</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sewn/pseuds/sewn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Warlock Lord's defeat, Bandon lives and is taken prisoner by Arborlon's new Queen.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bandon/Mareth (Shannara)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Gen Prompt Bingo 18 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1737304</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Gen Prompt Bingo Round 18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Arrangement</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'll be upfront: Bandon was not a big favorite of mine during the show. Still, I like trying to understand different characters and I thought it would be interesting to explore what might happen if he lived and how he would relate to Mareth. This is not a redemption story - heed the tags.</p><p>For my Gen Prompt Bingo square "Mind and Body."</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Once she was crowned Queen, Mareth found herself in possession of a prisoner.</p><p>She had almost forgotten about Bandon, having last seen him half-dead, taken away by Garet Jax and Slanter the Gnome as they rode to Leah to recruit the remaining Crimson soldiers to fight the Warlock Lord’s forces. They had handed him over to the human court and asked for him to be kept alive, collared, somewhere deep until the fight was over.</p><p>When Mareth finally stood eye to eye with her father’s old pupil, he had shown no remorse.</p><p>”Good,” he had said, locking his eyes with hers, when he had found out Allanon was dead. Mareth had wanted to kill him there and then, scorch him to ashes with her new power. Instead, she had turned away and ordered Bandon to be dragged from Leah’s prison cells to Arborlon before his presence could sully Lyria’s coronation.</p><p>Newly a Queen herself, it took her days before she even remembered to ask her secretary where exactly they were housing the young man who had raised the Warlock Lord from the death. Much of Arborlon’s comings and goings happened without her knowing, which was both unnerving and reassuring.</p><p>For someone at the mercy of an entire Elven court, Bandon was remarkably unrepentant. He greeted her with a mix of indifference and thinly veiled disgust.</p><p>”I thought you would leave me here to rot.”</p><p>”You’re hardly inconvenienced.” Mareth forced herself to look at him. ”We keep you fed. You can go wherever you want.”</p><p>”Until you decide how you want me to suffer.”</p><p>That part was true. He had been an accomplice—no, the instigator of the Warlock Lord’s attack on the Four Lands. He deserved death, but he could also be of use.</p><p>”Is that why you’re here?” he continued. ”Decided to chop my head off yet?”</p><p>Mareth didn’t know why she had come. Perhaps she had wanted to find him broken and begging for mercy, but he wasn’t offering her that pleasure.</p><p>”Oh, you’ll answer with more than that.” She tried to keep her voice stately, which she now did most days. ”But whatever we decide, however much you work to repay what you have done—I will <i>never</i> forgive you.”</p><p>He stared at her.</p><p>”You really miss your father, huh?”</p><p>She didn’t read anyone’s mind as a rule. It was rarely necessary, it drained her power, and in any case, she had quickly learned it was enough that people <i>thought</i> you were reading their mind. Now, though, she couldn’t resist taking a peek, knowing Bandon’s memories of Allanon were close to the surface.</p><p>
  <i>Green — light — magic warming his fingertips. His mind tangled with the forces of nature around him. He’d done it!</i>
</p><p>
  <i>”Well done.” A hand squeezing his shoulder, a smile—</i>
</p><p>Mareth coughed, curling in on herself, some invisible force hitting her chest. Her mind desperately chased the last tendrils of Bandon’s memory. She had rarely seen her father smile and that quick flash had had her heart breaking anew.</p><p>”What was that? How can you -” she drew in a deep breath and lifted her gaze to see Bandon eyeing her with interest. His fingers rubbed the dark grey stone hanging in a chain around his neck.</p><p>”So you don’t know what this is?” he asked curiously. ”It’s a charm. As long as it touches your skin, no one can read your mind. I was given it back with my clothes. You should get better help.”</p><p>”Where did you get it?”</p><p>”Where do you think?” Bandon smiled for the first time.</p><p>His old master. It made Mareth’s stomach twist to think something touched by such evil had gone unnoticed.</p><p>”If you want to look into my head so bad, you could just take the charm from me, couldn’t you? I’m no match for you.”</p><p>It was true. It would be no thing for her to take the stone. The reason he was allowed to wander around Arborlon, the rare times he wanted, was the green bracelet he couldn't take off, blocking his magic. The Druid Queen had total power over him, like any other individual.</p><p>”So go on. Do it.” He stretched his arms out like offering himself to her. When she still hesitated, he broke out an exaggerated grin and slipped the stone under his shirt. ”You won’t. You wouldn’t kick someone who’s already down. I’ve got nothing else left but my thoughts. And I haven’t done a thing wrong since you dragged me here. You’re not cruel enough to do that.”</p><p>Mareth stood up. She needed to leave before she proved him wrong.</p><p>”Wait!” Bandon fixed her with a pleading look. ”I can’t stand being all alone. No one talks to me. I could...” he seemed to consider something, ”- share. I’ll let you have one memory, but first, you have to grant me one wish. Nothing impossible. Just stuff you can show me in my room.”</p><p>She knew negotiating with prisoners wasn’t a good tactic, but she wasn’t a Queen now. Her realm didn’t depend on any choice she made here. This was just personal.</p><p>”Fine. Anything as long as it doesn’t hurt me or anyone else. But if you try to cheat, if you deny me what I’ve earned, I <i>will</i> take the stone from you by force.” He would have broken the deal then, shown he couldn’t be trusted. She’d have the right. ”Don’t think I won’t. You won’t deserve my mercy then.”</p><p>She took a step closer, trying to look deliberate instead of apprehensive.

</p><p>”What is it that you want?”</p><p>”Show me your tits.”</p><p>”What?” She couldn’t hide the disbelief in her voice.</p><p>”You heard me. You want a piece of me, you give back.”</p><p>Her mind still boggled. He could’ve asked her for <i>anything</i>, any spell, even tried to trick her into teaching him something he thought he could use to overpower her. And he asked for a glimpse of her body?</p><p>Assured he wasn’t joking, she shook her head and began to unlace her vest.</p><p>//</p><p>It wasn’t difficult at first. The boy was not very imaginative. He mostly wanted her to undress. They always did it this way: he got his first.</p><p>Bandon’s memories were mostly brief glimpses, cut off by his attempts to push them aside, but sometimes it was enough just seeing her father’s face or hearing his voice. He had never really taught her beyond the handling of her sword, which had been mostly a chore. She had wished for lessons in magic, but he said her skills with a sword were the biggest concern. </p><p>She had always known something of his person, but it had been built on his expression of romantic love, even if dressed in formality. As a curious child, she had even dug out some of the letters her mother wouldn’t show her—some of them had made her blush, but looking back, there was nothing scandalous about them. Pyria merely hadn’t wanted her to read about anything that revealed something of her weaknesses, anything where Allanon consoled her or repeated something painful.</p><p>Allanon’s acceptance of Mareth had been built on growing respect, his feelings still coalescing into something you might call fatherly love before their time was cut short. She had been sure her father had that in him, this kind of affection, but here was the proof, in the way he instructed Bandon, modulated his advice. She had to scrub away the boy’s misguided interpretation of the memories, but it was all there underneath.</p><p>No matter what she did for Bandon, it didn’t sully the moment afterwards. She always left his room feeling a bit lighter, newly marked with the loss she'd always carry, but now her pain was slowly gaining hues and layers. The open wound scabbed over and healed, leaving a scar even her powers could never remove, but she didn’t want it to disappear. She wanted the sorrow to harden into melancholy, until one day she could wear it like a crown. Be the Queen of Solitude and not the Queen of Loneliness.</p><p>Bandon never asked for anything magical. He got a little more adventurous with each request, working up the courage to actually touch her. Mareth let him trace the tattooed patterns on her arms, breasts and belly. He looked at her almost like some exotic animal, and certainly handled her like one when he grabbed her thighs and told her to spread her legs.</p><p>”You look human,” he said, fingertips touching her pubic hair, looking at her face like expecting some reaction.</p><p>Finally, he wanted her to get him off.</p><p>”Suck my dick.”</p><p>He tried to sound tough, but there was a strained note in his voice, and when she swallowed him as deep as she could, he grasped her hair so it hurt and she had to pull back and remind him of the rules.</p><p>Afterwards, she spit his seed into her royal handkerchief and wiped her mouth. He didn’t taste especially unpleasant, but it wasn’t anything she liked either.</p><p>”Do you do this often?”</p><p>She supposed he was trying to offend her somehow. It was a little difficult to remember the time such things had mattered. She shrugged. ”Whenever I like.”</p><p>The answer didn’t seem to satisfy Bandon, but he kept silent.</p><p>//</p><p>”You can have the memory first this time.”</p><p>She did wonder why he offered, but wasn’t about to question his generosity.</p><p>
  <i>Cave — blue — taste of blood and magic in his mouth. Bandon is angry. His anger is small but dense: petulant, self-righteous anger. He feels like that most of the time.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>”You don’t even know if she is your daughter! You said so yourself!” He has just shown that even caged, he can force the perfect Wil Ohmsford to do what he wants, and yet Allanon places his trust in him and a girl who can do tricks. He hates the golden boy and that bitch, liars both—</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Allanon merely closes his eyes. ”It does not matter,” he says, with a tremble in his voice, something Bandon has never heard before. ”I trust her with my life.”</i>
</p><p>Mareth was pulled away from the moment violently. She stared at Bandon’s midriff; she had dropped to her knees, and he hadn’t bothered to support her. The shimmering stone lay on his palm, and he rubbed its surface lazily with his thumb.</p><p>Mareth lifted her hand to wipe her wet eyes and raised one aching knee to stand up, but Bandon slipped the chain around his neck quickly and slashed the air with his hand.</p><p>”No,” he said coolly. ”Stay down. Your turn.”</p><p>She looked up and met his dark eyes. Hers must have been red. They were stinging, and her nose was running.</p><p>”So this is how it is?” She kept her voice steady. He had summoned up a moment when he had been humiliated, felt childish, everything he didn’t want to think of himself as. Just so he could shove his dick down a crying woman’s throat.</p><p>”Yeah,” he said, mouth curling into a smirk. ”Come on now, open my pants.”</p><p>//</p><p>She should have walked away after that. There was nothing worth putting herself through something like that again.</p><p>But the whole week, she dreamt of it every night: her father’s face, the roiling emotion she recognized under his stony demeanor, everything Bandon couldn’t see. Had Bandon said something more about her? He must have taunted Allanon. He retained so much anger at Mareth, he must have. In some twisted way, she hoped the boy had called her more childish names and Allanon had responded. Defended her somehow.</p><p>In the end, she decided to go. She could have put an end to it all, but this was her choice. She did recognize the nature these encounters had taken—it was not that different from the sweet taste of sket on her tongue, promising high spirits for the night. She could indulge every now and then.</p><p>Bandon seemed a little surprised by her appearance as well. For a second, she expected him to apologize for last time, but the only concession he made was that he asked if she wanted something particular.</p><p>This was her chance to ask for what she had been dreaming about. But another wish bubbled up in, unbidden.</p><p>She hesitated before speaking it out loud. This felt like revealing something of herself. So far, she had only looked at what Bandon had happened to remember.</p><p>”Did you ever hurt yourself training?” It was a meaningless question, because he would have, but she wanted to be polite. Bandon’s mouth still tightened, as if he didn’t understand. She added, ”I mean, did he ever heal you?”</p><p>Her tone must have betrayed something of her embarrassment at asking for such a memory because his face turned pleased.</p><p>”Sure,” he shrugged. ”I guess I broke a few bones.”</p><p>”Well, then,” she said, ”That’s my wish today. What about you?”</p><p>”Can—I want to fuck you.”</p><p>She had been expecting this for a while.</p><p>”What’s that?” He eyed the jar she pulled out of her cloak before starting to strip. She had forgotten to wear something lighter and she now had layers of leather to get through.</p><p>”It’s just salve.” She began to unlace her boots. ”To ease the way.”</p><p>”You really need that?” He sounded suspicious.</p><p>”Well, it’s not like I’m going to enjoy it. I’m not going to do it without any. It’ll hurt us both.”</p><p>She was now certain he had never done this before. He looked sullen while undressing, though his eyes tracked her movements when she sat on the bed, coated her fingers and slicked herself up inside.</p><p>”Let’s do it like this, okay?” She half-expected him to resist, act tougher, but he went on his back and she sat astride him and guided him inside her.</p><p>She rocked her hips: from his reaction this was a sufficient pace. She watched his face now that his eyes weren’t open. Clean-shaven and with a haircut he looked young. She wasn’t even sure of his age. It was sometimes hard to tell with elves. Just an ordinary boy. Knowing him now, it was hard to say what Allanon had seen in him. She felt the extent of his power intimately; he had potential, but no more than any elf with a particular heritage.</p><p>Had her father really been that desperate to find the next druid that he’d chosen the first young man with just enough skill? Enough to sacrifice his life for it? Mareth had been thinking that Bandon—or the Warlock Lord through him, somehow—had tricked Allanon, disguising dark magic as light. But the power in Bandon wasn’t different from hers, there was just much less of it. He’d simply chosen to use it otherwise. Perhaps there was no trick, just fear lurking in her father’s human heart.</p><p>The dark stone rested on his breastbone. She could have easily snatched it away. She imagined doing it and digging into Bandon’s head. He couldn’t probably keep her from taking anything she wanted right now.</p><p>Bandon’s mouth formed a tight line and his fingernails dug into her hips. She grabbed his wrists.</p><p>”Come on,” she said, grinding her hips down hard once more.</p><p>She waited for his breathing to even out and for him to blink his eyes open before climbing off him.</p><p>She got herself a memory of her father setting a limb out of joint: efficient, eyes on the task. The memory was vivid, but it was marred by Bandon’s own thoughts. He didn’t concentrate anywhere she would have. Whenever she hurt herself as a kid and ran to her mother for a fix-up, it was with a mix of tears and pride. Pyria would chide her for thoughtlessness but always left her feeling proud of another battle won. Bandon’s shame dripped off each detail, and there was no pride to be found here, no connection.</p><p>//</p><p>He had asked her for an extra favor last time, and she saw no reason not to grant it: she wore a dress, blue and grey, colors she didn’t often choose. She could guess he wanted to fulfil another fantasy, but if it was just an attire while she got him off, it wasn’t a bother.</p><p>He had more demands, though. ”You still do illusions? Can you make your hair blonde? Your ears a bit better? Like a real elf?”</p><p>Then:</p><p>”Kiss me.”</p><p>They hadn’t done this before. She hesitated before leaning in.</p><p>His lips were soft when they met hers. The kiss was chaste, quick, and she didn’t do anything to prolong it. Still, it left her uneasy, like he had stuck his tongue into her mouth and forced her jaw open.</p><p>She wondered if this was it, if she could get up from the bed now.</p><p>”Again. Like you mean it.”</p><p>The bodice of the dress felt tight, and his fingers dug into her sides. She tried to put some force into the kiss, but it was getting more uncomfortable.</p><p>”Now say you’re sorry.”</p><p>She hesitated again. His voice had a childish desperation to it, but it was also cruel, like only a child could be.</p><p>”Say you’re <i>sorry</i>.”</p><p>She let the illusion go.</p><p>”We have a deal!”</p><p>His face was that of a child’s too, hateful, scared—just like his thoughts had always been. Mareth pulled back. </p><p>”I want nothing from you anymore. So there’s nothing to give.”</p><p>Bandon’s face distorted further, his pleading and begging mask falling away.</p><p>”I know you want more.” He grabbed her by the forearms. ”If you don’t do this, I’ll tell everyone what we have been doing,” he added, teeth glinting between spit-slick lips.</p><p>”<i>No</i>.”</p><p>Mareth flipped Bandon onto his back on the bed with a thought and stood up. ”I’ve had enough.”</p><p>When the boy got up from the bed, she froze his body mid-step. She didn’t bother with any more words. The heavy oak door slamming shut broke the spell. She walked briskly down the hallway, the skirts of her dress gathered in her shaking hands, but she still heard his muffled scream before it faded away.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>